Twilight
by Boussole
Summary: TEC spoilers. Making decisions is hard deciding what's right can be like deciding whether twilight is night or day. Root chose to mindwipe Artemis and the Butlers. Was it right? What if he were offered the chance to change it? INACTIVE, INCOMPLETE.
1. Prologue: Making The Decision

Chapter I

(Author's Note: I originally planned this fic to look at several characters' viewpoints of the mind wipes. Instead, I've decided to change it just to look at Root's feelings of it.)

(Another Author's Note: I've redone this chapter as the prologue instead, and changed the perspective from third person to first, for plot purposes. I've decided that only the prologue, epilogue, and memories/flashbacks/dreams/visions will be in first person; the rest will be in third person.)

Note: The quote from _The Iron Ring_ may not be entirely correct; I haven't read it for a long time and I can't get hold of a copy right now. If anyone with a copy can confirm that it's entirely correct or give me the exact quotation, it would be greatly appreciated. Thanks.

**Disclaimer**: I neither own nor claim rights to _Artemis Fowl_ or the sources of any of the quotes used throughout this fic, unless otherwise specified.

"'Wrong is wrong and right is right,

They're as different as day and night.'

'That may be true,' Mirri said. 'But ... what if it's twilight?'"

-From _The Iron Ring_, by Lloyd Alexander

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_How many people_, I wondered. _Just _how_ many people have dismissed me as just an angry, insensitive elf and nothing more? "Oh look, there goes Commander Root. What an angry man past his prime; they should really get rid of him. And what terrible interpersonal skills he has, too." _But I prefer it that way. Showing too much emotion is dangerous; anyone could use your emotions as weapons against you. It's better to keep it all inside; you can't trust anyone these days. But I can't stop having emotions, or from understanding others'.

I knew that Mulch Diggums would secretly want to say good-bye to Fowl and his bodyguards before their minds were wiped, and vice versa. So I ordered Captain Short to bring him in, no matter how much the convict protested.

"You look after yourself, little friend. Stay clear of goblins," Butler said, almost affectionately.

The convict shuddered at the thought of goblins. "You don't have to tell me that."

One of my lesser known talents is to tactfully divert a conversation from one of those awkward pauses, the ones where everyone becomes uncomfortable and looks away. Well, maybe my method isn't so tactful. But it's effective. "Maybe you two would like to get married?" I barked. "I don't know what all the emotion is about!" A lie. I knew very well, especially because of that time…_NO. Don't think about that. It's over. Just concentrate…_ "In a few moments you people won't even remember this convict's name!" _That's exactly what it's all about…trying to say goodbye when everyone knows they won't remember him._ I gritted my teeth. Why is having a conscience so bloody annoying?

"Julius, please," Diggums smirked at me patronizingly. I ignored the deliberate use of my first name. "Do you realize that all of these humans owe me their lives? This is an emotional moment for them." I wanted to scream, and I could actually feel my face turning red. _Yes, I know very well this is an emotional moment, Mulch; why do you have to make this so much more difficult?_ I had to avoid the awkward silence that I knew was coming; I had to say something…_no mushy stuff, just formal goodbyes...no emotion..._

"I couldn't care less about your touchy-feely moment; I'm here to make sure this wipe goes smoothly." Another lie. I was afraid someone would see past my indifference, so I hastily changed the subject. "If I know our friend, Fowl, he's got a few tricks up his sleeve." _At least I can be honest there._

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"Half an ounce of gold. Great. You really broke the bank there, Artemis." The convict was trying to conceal his disappointment; it was obvious to everyone he had expected something a little less symbolic and a little more concrete. As impatient as I was about waiting for the kleptomaniac to get over it so we could move on, I knew anything was better than silence. Because when there was silence, I could feel Artemis's gaze on me, even if I averted my eyes…his icy blue eyes were disturbingly bright if I stared back, and they forced me to think too much about what I was doing, what I had to do…

"It's not always about money, Mulch," Artemis said, shaking the convict's hand. I studied Artemis's face. _Does the Mud Boy really believe what he's saying? And could it be the People who had created that change from the cold, unfeeling human who once firmly believed the very opposite of that statement?_

Artemis caught me staring, and returned my intense look. I blinked and looked instead at the whatever-it-was that he had just given the convict. It was a gold disk…no, a gold coin with a hole in it. Just a coin. _Then why does it interest me so much? Hmm…_ I made a mental note to think about it later.

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"Now get that convict into the shuttle, and let's get on with this." I desperately wanted this to be over. Every moment was agony, watching the humans cherish what everyone knew were their last moments of knowing the People. _And it's my fault they have to be mindwiped…_ "I've got a Council meeting in ten minutes." Another lie; but it was all I could think of.

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I ordered Captain Short to _mesmer_ise Artemis. My voice sounded so hollow, so fake..._Concentrate...keep yourself together...you can't break down, you have to be the strong leader..._

Artemis held up his hand. "Wait a moment. Am I right in thinking that when I wake up again, this will all be over?" _Don't say it like that, Artemis...I'm not a heartless monster...D'Arvit, why can't I do this?_

I watched Holly smile sadly. "Yes, Artemis. This is good-bye, for the last time." That was even worse to hear.

"Well then, I have a few things to say."

_If you're going to mindwipe them all anyway, at least let him have a few minutes to say his last words to the People_, my conscience nagged. "One minute, Fowl." I didn't want to say "Artemis;" first name terms would make this even more painful. "Then nighty-night."

"Very well. First, thank you. I have my family and friends around me thanks to the People. I wish I didn't have to forget that." I winced internally, but didn't let it show. It was much harder hearing it said out loud than inside me. _Come on_, I told myself, _no emotion, no emotion..._

"It's better this way, Artemis. Believe me," Holly tried to reassure him, putting her hand on his shoulder. Oh, how desperately I wanted to believe her too. Logically, it _was_ the better choice. A Mud Man, a Mud Boy, and a Mud Girl mindwiped, and the People were safe, for a while at least. But really, was it better?

"And second, I want you all to think back to the first time you met me. Remember that night?" I remembered it, all right. After all, it was rather difficult to forget escaping a fireball on board an exploding whaler. Make that escaping a fireball on board an exploding whaler, courtesy of Artemis Fowl the Second.

"If you take away the memories and influences of the People, I might become that person again. Is that what you really want?" I knew he was only trying to give us reasons not to perform the mindwipes. But still…I considered. What if Artemis was right? Could I live with myself, knowing I was responsible for making Artemis the monster he had been before?

Captain Short turned toward me. "Is it possible?" she asked. "Artemis has come a long way. Do we really have the right to destroy all that progress?" I was asking myself the same question, but I didn't want to know the answer.

"He's right," Foaly added. "I never thought I would say this, but I kinda like the new model." I swallowed hard, trying to remain resolute. I had nearly been about to cancel the wipes after what Fowl had said, but now I was reminded of something. _You're letting your emotions get in the way_, a malicious voice in my head hissed. _Some big strong commander you are; you could have put thousands at risk because of your softness._

I ignored the voice and opened up a window on the screen. "The Psych Brotherhood did this probability report for us. They say the chances of a reversion are slim. Fowl will still have strong positive influences from his family and the Butlers."

"The Psych Brotherhood?" Holly questioned dubiously. "Argon and his cronies? And when exactly did we start trusting those witch doctors?"

_Typical_, I thought. She had to make it so hard for me to make the decision. I ignored the voice in my head reminding me that I didn't exactly have a lot of faith in the Psych Brotherhood either. I was about to start yelling again, but I realized she didn't need this to be any more stressful. None of us did.

"Holly," I said. Since when did I call her Holly out loud? _Don't think about that now; concentrate!_ "The future of our culture is at stake. The bottom line is that Artemis's future is not our problem." I felt heartless saying it.

"If that's true, then we're as bad as the Mud Men." Holly was still trying valiantly to persuade me. Internally I sighed. Time to resort to the only way she would get the message.

"Listen to me, Captain," I bellowed. "Being in command means making tough decisions." And if this wasn't a tough decision, I didn't know what was. "Not being in command means shutting up and doing as you're told. Now _mesmer_ise those humans before we lose the link." I couldn't stand any more. _This must be what it's like to die a long, drawn-out death,_ I thought grimly. _No_, a voice in my head corrected me. _This is what it's like to watch _friends_ die long, drawn-out deaths, knowing it was your fault._

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The connection was terminated. The mindwipes were about to be performed. I buried my head in my hands. What had I done?


	2. Chapter One: A Chance

Chapter II

_Cuttin__' through the darkest night  
In my two headlights  
I'm trying to keep it clear  
But I'm losing it here  
To the twilight_

_There's a dead end to my left  
There's a burning bush  
To my right_

-From _Standing Still_, by Jewel

Root sighed and called on the bartender for another drink. Maybe he could drown his guilt in alcohol and forget about it all. It had been two months since the mindwipes -- two months since he had had to make the decision. He had agonized about making the choice for an eternity before finally admitting what he'd known all along: Fowl and his bodyguards had to go. From a strictly business point of view, it was the perfectly logical course of action. _They were a danger to the fairies; if you didn't you could have lost your job, not to mention endanger the People_, he reminded himself.

_Endanger the People._ The phrase reminded him of someone. Someone he'd trusted; considered a friend for about six centuries. Briar Cudgeon. Who had decided his own career was worth betraying a friend for.

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_How could it have been Cudgeon?_ _I thought friendship meant a little more to him than this. And even if it didn't, why did I never see it coming? Everyone told me he'd betray me for the sake of his own career, and I just laughed it off. I always knew- or I thought I did- that he did everything with good intentions. Or maybe I just couldn't accept the fact that a friend would betray me. Does _anyone_ ever want to accept that? Is denying bitter truth better than accepting it?_

_How could he have done this to me? How could I have shut my eyes so stubbornly to the truth?_

_How? How? How?_

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_This is how Fowl and the __Butlers__ had felt,_ Root's conscience reminded him, deliberately placing emphasis on the words "had felt". _As if you were a cold, heartless being, only concerned about careers and not people._ He shivered with guilt. All the memories, the second thoughts...it was horrible. Perhaps, in a way, he was able to understand what drove Cudgeon to betray a friend, now that he knew what it felt like to make a hard decision like this. Maybe the part of Cudgeon that had started out with good intentions had never planned to betray him...

A slight cough startled him out of the memories. Root looked up and saw the bartender with the drink he'd asked for. The bartender put down the glass. "Commander Root, sir. Problem?" Root merely grunted and turned away, past caring about being rude. _Yeah, there's a problem; I've become the same monster I hated my "friend" for becoming._

Over the next few hours, Root went through more than just a few drinks, trying to block everything out. He wanted desperately to ignore reality, to not have to think about anything at all. He had lost count of the number of drinks he'd had when he stopped himself. He couldn't do this. He had responsibilities; he had to fulfil his duty as a law enforcer, and he was certainly not going to achieve that by getting dead drunk.

It was late, almost night. He had better get home to sleep off the alcohol. Good thing he'd taken a few days off work; he'd have time to recover. Root got up with a tremendous effort, his vision careening. He blearily staggered out of the bar. He could almost see the killer headache destined for him. Great. He mumbled something to himself. His speech was so slurred and his mind so bewildered he couldn't even tell what he was saying.

Root stumbled onwards. He didn't realize he had no clue where he was, even though he knew Haven very well, having lived there for all 652 years of his life. In fact, he didn't realize anything until he walked into something solid but invisible. He tried to turn around, and found he couldn't move his feet. "What?" he thought dimly, trying in vain to force his mouth to make the sound.

Julius, a voice answered, without really talking. It was as if it were creating images in his head that translated themselves into words. But he didn't question the fact that he was talking to an invisible voice in his head who knew his name, in the middle of a place he didn't know.

Instead, he automatically said the first thing that came to mind: "That's Commander to you." Or that's what he tried to say, anyway. It came out as more of a distorted mumble. The voice just laughed at him. Julius Root did not like being laughed at. Who was this guy, anyway? Irritation and confusion sobered him up a little, and he was able to articulate a sentence clearly. The sentence was, "What the hell?"

You feel guilty, pronounced the voice, matter-of-factly. It seemed to be talking more for its own benefit than his.

"Who are you?" Root demanded, ignoring the truth. His centuries of law enforcement kicked in then, despite the alcohol in his system. He could feel the familiar thrill of adrenaline rushing through his body. He tensed himself for an attack. Automatically, his hand drifted towards where his gun would have been, if he'd been wearing one. He only realized he'd moved his hand when he felt it frozen in mid-air, unable to move. He tried moving his arm, and instantly felt a flash of pain run through his entire body. The alcohol in his system numbed it a little.

Now, now; there's no need for being violent, the voice said mockingly. Root hated its patronizing tone. You can't hurt me, anyway. That self-satisfied statement roused him further.

"Wanna bet?" he snarled. "If you don't tell me what's going on-"

I'm here to offer you something, the voice interrupted calmly.

"And what would that be?" he asked, suspicious. "If you're trying to sell me something-"

No. I'm giving you a choice, the voice explained patiently.

"A choice?" Root scoffed in disbelief. He was tired, it was late, all he wanted to do was to go home and sleep, and now this weird voice was trying to offer him something? "I'll give _you_ a choice: You either let me go or else I-"

You regret mindwiping them, don't you. It wasn't a question; it was a statement.

"What's it to you?" he retorted. He didn't even bother denying it.

I can let you go back and make the decision again, the voice intoned solemnly. Root was silent for a few seconds. Think about it, the voice continued. Do you feel no remorse at all? Is your conscience not killing you?

_Yes_, he answered silently. He clamped down on that thought. "And why should you care if I do?" he retorted out loud.

It's my duty. If a mistake has been made, I help resolve it.

"So it was a mistake then," he whispered to himself.

That's for you to decide. You have exactly three days. If you choose to go back in time to undo your decision to perform the mindwipes, you must visit Stonehenge at this time three days from now. Stonehenge? This voice that supposedly had the power to allow him to go back in time or something wanted him to visit a former pizza parlour? A _lousy_ pizza parlour, no less?

He mentally pushed the thought away and concentrated on something more important. "So what's the catch?" he asked suspiciously.

Whatever you choose will be final. If you don't choose to accept my offer, you'll never get the chance to change your decision. If you choose to accept it but you screw it up, you'll have to live with the results of whatever happens.

_Screw it up?_ Root thought. _How hard could it be just to say no?_

You know that if Fowl and his bodyguards aren't mindwiped, you could be endangering the People. Not to mention you could lose your job. Then someone like Briar Cudgeon could come along and seize control. Is that what you want? the voice urged pressingly.

"I- I don't know," he muttered honestly, distracted by the mention of Cudgeon, whose desperate mindset he could now almost understand.

Choose well, the voice said, and faded. He could physically feel it leaving him. He was able to move now. Root felt annoyed. "Choose well," that was it? He could have used a lot more details on this. Anything could happen, and hundreds of things could go wrong.

Suddenly, Root felt his wall of adrenaline collapse, releasing a huge amount of exhaustion, though his mind was surprisingly clear. Then he remembered something. "At this time three days from now," the voice had said. What time was it now? He looked up at the sun strips that imitated the sky in the world above.

It was that time of day, not still day, but not yet night. Or, as the Mud People called it, twilight.


End file.
